Spies and Teenage Boys
by Wendy Pierce
Summary: From being held at gunpoint to bringing bad guys to justice, CIA legendary Mikayla Makoola has been through it all. But, two years of being in the spy business didn't teach her how to deal with her most recent mission yet: teenage boys.
1. Chapter 1 (EDITED)

**AU. Spies. Story won't be updated for a while. I need five reviews to continue. **

**Disclaimer-I don't own Pair Of Kings(if I did, Season 3 would be better and Bra-Kayla would live). What I _do_ own, however, is my _only_ male OC, Blake.**

* * *

Dark eyes stared at me from across the cafe. It, in a way, made me sick. The man took a rather large sip from his drink and smirked in my direction. I gazed at the tanned wall in front of me, minding my own business. I, however, felt uncomfortable when I sensed the man leaving his seat and heading in my direction. My hands lay in front of me on the table, my coffee untouched, and my heart beat unsteady. The man who dared to walk up to me was about to change my life with what ever information he held.

With only one long stride, the man finally made his way to my table. He slid into a seat across from me, a hint of laughter in his eyes. I shifted in my seat. "What is it now?" I asked, hiding the urgency in my voice.

He threw his head back, laughing. "First of all, you're adorable."

I punched him in the arm. "I didn't sign up for this job to deal with your monkey business!" I snapped, causing him to turn serious.

"Good thing I'm not a monkey, huh?" He joked, earning a glare from me. The young man pulled out a folder from under his jacket and threw it on the table in front of me. "It's about your new mission."

"Is it finally something riveting?" I asked, taking a sip of my coffee and skimming through the folder. Never had I ever had my next mission given to me through my partner-in-crime. This should have been good news. And fortunately, it was.

"Indeed it is." He nodded. He clapped his hands together. "It takes place on that little island-"

"I beg your pardon, but Kinkow is not 'little'. You should know since you once lived there." I spat, rather offended by his comment. Trust me, if you've ever set foot on the island itself, you'll realize that it's not always paradise-as I've reminded my partner several of times before. "What's wrong with the island?"

"Oh, it just happens to be the Princes of the former King and Queen are coming back to the island." I froze. It had been two years since I had last heard of the death of the King and Queen. And for my partner to proudly bring it up, let's just say, he earned himself the dirtiest glare I could give anyone.

"So?" I raised an eyebrow, mentally stabbing him repeatedly. He should be grateful that there were one too many witness around for me to actually strike out at him. Actually, the café was nearly vacant, but had a handful of people that could still be considered witness.

"_So_," He checked the café for anyone who might be listening. A few people might have been in that room, but you never know who's an eavesdropper. He leaned in closer and lowered his voice to a whisper. "You've got to make sure these new Kings aren't moles."

Here are a few things you should know about moles: they are traitors to U.S government. They share information to other countries so those said countries could weaken our central government. Basically, they're the bad guys in politics.

It was my turn to throw my head back and laugh. "If they're the same age as us, I doubt these boys will have the ability to transfer government information to a bunch Kinkoweons!"

The young man raised an eyebrow: _It's possible._

"Fine; I guess it is a possibility." I grunted. My eyes scanned the first paper in the folder. "I'm by myself in this mission, aren't I?"

"No." He shook his head. His green eyes pierced into my brown ones, and his signature smirk creeping on to his lips. This was not a good sign, I knew right away. "I'm coming with you."

Of course. He's the only other agent who came from the same island I did. If there's anybody who knows the island up from down, its got to be him. I just couldn't process the fact that the first time in moths I get to go on a mission...and drag _him_ along.

I neatly filed the paper back into the folder, and returned the smirk to my partner. "Did I even have to ask?"

"Guess who gets the better end of the deal?" He questioned.

Wordlessly, I pointed to him. He shook his head.

Then, I pointed to myself. "Me? How?"

"You don't get to look through their _unmentionables_."

I grimaced. That sounded _awful_. "If that's your job, what's mine?"

"Well, you have to go undercover as the head guard of the palace-meaning you'll be close to the suspects themselves."

"Wow; I do get the better job." I concluded. I gathered all of my belongings and scrambled to my feet.

"Where are you going?" My partner asked. "You don't even have the keys to the car!"

I smiled as I pulled a set of keys from my pocket and wiggled it in front of his face. "I'm driving." I announced before leaving the café for the parking lot, my partner trailing after me.

"Do I want to ask how you got those?" I shook my head-_no_.

We climbed into a black Honda (which belonged to my partner) and drove to our shared apartment. Just don't tell my dad about how I share an apartment with a boy; he'll freak!

* * *

Okay, so, if you haven't figured it out already, yes, I am a spy. I am a member of the C.I.A (Central Intelligence Agency, for those of you who didn't know) and proud. Of course, you should have already known because if you did, you have a Level Four clearance to read this report. Also, please don't ask how I even became a spy; it's a complicated back story I'd rather not talk about.

This report, just so you know, wasn't my idea-it was my partner's, Blake, idea. He thought that I should document everything I've gone through as a spy. And let me just tell you, being a spy is nothing like you'd think it is. Forget about all the movies you've ever watched because spies are actually linked to the government. They're not an organization of their own (otherwise, it would have been much easier to write about!).

Trust me. I've been a member of the C.I.A since I was fourteen-I'm sixteen now. Missions are exciting. They bet sitting down in an office, translating foreign newspapers. In missions, you actually get to track down the bad guys and bring them to justice. And, eventually, you get to kick butt! So, if you ever work for this agency, make sure to sign up for covert operations-they rock!

As I write this, I sit on the couch of my shared apartment. The apartment is simple: Two bedrooms, a bathroom, a living room, and a kitchen. Thank goodness we found this apartment because if we didn't, Blake would've suggested a studio apartment. (And I think we all know how that would've ended..). But, like that boy ever uses his bed. Every morning, I see him crashing on the couch. So, honestly, why does he even have one[a bed]?

Moreover, Blake is an...annoying companion. Just as I wrote that, he looked over my shoulder and teased: "Am I that bad to live with?" I replied with a subtle yes, which only caused him to laugh. Just for that, I whacked him with a pillow.

"Start packing; the ballon leaves tomorrow morning at eight." I could still hear his obnoxious laughter even after he left the room. Packing!, the idea finally snapped into my head. I never thought about it till now.

I jumped to my feet and ran into my room. If you're wondering why we have to get the island by a ballon and not a plane or boat, it's because the air currents on Kinkow are so strong that its the only source of transportation. The island has these currents for good reasons: to keep us blocked from the outside world. You shouldn't even start questioning how we get our mail; I'll save that for another day.


	2. Chapter 2

**It's a minimum school day today so I MIGHT be able to upload later. I first have to finish Chapter 3. :)**

* * *

"Wake up, sleepy head." I was roughly shaken awake, courtesy of Blake. His wake up calls are never so pleasant.

"What time is it?" I moaned.

"Seven; get dressed." He left, the wooden door closing behind him.

I groaned, making a mental note to get him back for that another day.

* * *

I entered the small kitchen with the folder in my hands. Blake sat on the circular table set in the corner of the room, sharpening his sword. "This mission just gives you an excuse to casually carry around a weapon, doesn't it?" I asked, plopping down into a seat beside him.

His eyes never wavered from the sword. "Maybe. Same goes for you." The green eyed boy reached across the table and held a sheathed machete in front of my face. "Remember this?" He wiggled it. Stabatha. You see, I'm so attached to my weapons that I've actually given them names. (Call me crazy, but this is not a joke.)

"Give me that!" I almost tackled Blake as I took the machete from his grasp and protectively clutched it to my chest as if it was my only life line. He eyed me queerly. "You should know better than to touch my favorite machete of all time!"

Blake shrugged. He took the folder and pulled out a paper. "Did you read the suspects yet?" I shook my head. "You have half an hour to." He handed me the paper that read:

**MISSION ROMANCING ROYALTY**

**OPERATIVE(S):**

**Makoola and Anderson**

**SUSPECT(S):**

**Twins Brady and Boomer Parker.**

**OBJECTIVE:**

**See if said suspects have government information to share with other countries; preferably to the island they will soon rule.**

**Operative Makoola- According to your files, you were a guard-in-training before coming over to the CIA. You shall use this as your cover to get up close and personal with the suspects.**

**Operative Anderson- You are one excellent pavement artist which makes you perfect for the job you are about to be given. You must check the suspects' bedroom for files about any recent government activity. It may include looking through their undergarments.**

**DESCRIPTION OF SUSPECT(S):**

**Boomer Parker-**  
**Age: 16**

**Gender: Male (Or said otherwise by his brother)**

**Appearance:**

**-Eye color: Brown**

**-Hair color: Black**

**-Hieght: 5"7**

**-Skin tone: Dark**

**Likes: Random shirts, Beyoncé**

**Dislikes: Work (basically, anything that has to do with thinking), Bullies**

**Hobbies: Dancing(and a horrible one at that)**

**Notes: He is a little slow so he shouldn't be much of a problem.**

**Brady Parker-**  
**Age: 16**

**Gender: Male**

**Appearance:**

**-Eye color: Brown**

**-Hair color: Black**

**-Hieght: 5"7**

**-Skin tone: Light**

**Likes: Music (especially guitars)**

**Dislikes: Bullies**

**Hobbies: Songwriting, singing, flirting (Careful with him, Operative Makoola.)**

**Notes: He is proven to be the smarter twin. (Keep your eye out for this one.)**

**Other than that, I bid you a good luck on your mission.**

**-Signed, The Director**

I didn't know what was crazier: The fact that they wanted us to go after some innocent sounding boys or that Blake's last name was Anderson! It took me two years to figure out what my partners last name was and, I have to say, I'm quite astonished.

_Covert Report  
Once Operative Makoola concluded her study on the suspects, her and Operative Anderson promptly set off for their __mission. Both Operatives climbed the stairs to the top of the building, where a balloon, manned by Operative Makoola's __father, was waiting. Operative Makoola ran to her father who she had not seen in two years and gave him a bear hug. __Operative Anderson did, however, receive several of glares from both his partner and his partners father._

* * *

It took two full days for us to make it to Kinkow. (It also took a lot of willpower to not throw Blake out of the balloon, but that story is for another time.) We landed in the middle of the plaza, though it looked nothing like I had remembered. Streamers hung everywhere, a red carpet was positioned under our feet, and, behind us, sat a small stage.

"You know we are preparing-"

"For the arrival of the new Kings-I know." I cut my dad off. He went to carry my bags, but I slapped his hands away. He raised an eyebrow. "I can carry my own bags!"

My dad threw his hands up defensively. "I was just trying to help. Why did you come back, anyways?"

"I'm afraid that's classified, sir." spoke Blake.

My dad sent the boy a glare. "Well, I don't know how long you're staying, but I missed you, baby girl." He gave me a one-armed hug and Blake his famous "I-got-my-eyes-on-you" look before heading into the castle.

"You better watch out, Blakey." I teased, using my nickname for him. "Papa Sasquatch will hunt you down."

The green eyed boy gave me a look of disbelief. I quickly made a dash for the castle, Blake chasing after me. "Stop calling me that!"

"No!" I refused, running around a corner and past some royal servants.

Blake soon caught up. He grabbed my wrist, spun me around, and pinned me against a wall. "Let's be serious; we're here on a mission, not to act like little children."

"Whatever you say...Blakey." I giggled when he raised an eyebrow at me.

He was right; we had to take this seriously. But, who could act mature when knowing your partners job is to look through the undergarments of the suspects? It was not at all easy to take the boy who stood in front of me with a professional tone.

Sure, I did create a nickname for him but it was only meant to be taken as a friendly way. And I'm friends with him...at least I think...Now was not the proper time to question it. I had a mission to prepare for after all.

* * *

**The title to the mission is actually a parody to "Romancing The Phone", the title to an episode of The Suite Life Of Zach and Cody which Kelsey Chow just happened to guest star on. Please review for more!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm _attempting_ to make this a twenty chaptered story. Attempting being the key word, and twenty chapters being the goal. Wish me good luck.**

**Disclaimer- As always, I own nothing besides my OC, Blake.**

* * *

_Covert Report_  
_Operative Makoola eagerly awaited this day, for it was the day the new Kings would arrive. Before storming into the room to meet the Kings and acting unprofessionally, Operative Anderson made_ _a quick move to stop her. He reminded her one final time that it was important to stick to the cover. Operative Makoola hushed the boy, threatening to murder him with a banana (don't ask)._

The wind picked up almost immediately after I had walked back into the throne room. It blew my hair back and slapped me in the face. Hard. I quickly recovered from almost stumbling backwards and running into a wall by flipping my hair over my shoulders and smiling in what was supposed to be a flirty matter.

Most of the women back in the CIA were right; playing "Hot Girl" to mess with a suspect head is the best cover you could ever put up! I say this because when I re-entered the room, the boys' heads turned. They stared at me as if they've never seen a girl before.

If you want a physical explanation of these boys, well, you are not getting one. All you have to know was that they fit the given description that I had written a few pages back.

"This is thirty six inches of cold hard steel forged from the fires of Mt. Don't Touch My Daughter." My father threatened the two boys, waving his machete before their eyes.

And that was when I knew it was my cue.

"He's the reason why I had to go to prom with a zebra." I told them, scolding my dad for ruining my prom night. He shrugged and I turned back to the young men. "You must be the new Kings." I said, bowing.

"You bet we are!" The boy who sat on the throne exclaimed, and jumped out of his seat. "I'm Boomer." He said, even though I already knew his name and everything else there was to know about him. But I didn't say so. The dark skinned boy smiled dreamily at me.

"Mikayla." I tried not to be frightened of him. His brother, however, who sat on a tiny beach chair, somehow managed to fall right through it [and when I said _it_, I meant the chair].

"Sorry." He apologized quietly and scrambled to his feet.

Remember how I said that I wasn't going to give any physical description of these boys? Well, I felt like this boy deserved to be described. He had straight, black hair that was brushed off to the right side of his face. His eyes were a dark shade of brown (or, as I liked to call it, chocolate brown which will just melt your heart if you stare at it for so long!). He was fairly built though body type never bothered me. What he wore wasn't as important to me as his physical appearance-this boy was clearly attractive. End. Of. Discussion.

I slapped my forehead before realizing what I wrote. Maybe, he was messing with me because he knew what I wanted to acquire from him. Perhaps he caught onto the little game I was playing. Or he was just a normal teenage boy. When I conducted research on him, no criminal records popped up. But, the Director did warn us about how he could be the biggest threat because he was the smartest twin. Out of all the boys I could hit on, it had to be a suspect. Wonderful, isn't it? (Note the sarcasm.)

The aforementioned boy walked up to me. "I'm Brady. You'll have to excuse my brother and I's behavior; we usually don't act like this." The tone he took with me said that he was trying to act mature. But, the hint of laughter in his eyes stated otherwise.

"It's alright." I shook the temptation to run out of the room and scream my head off. Having this close contact with this boy became too much for me to handle. And I barely knew him. Well, of course I _knew _him, but I was supposed to act like I didn't_._

Ugh. Being an undercover agent just made life difficult.

"So, are you two ready for the castle tour?"

* * *

"...And this is your bedroom; the highest and safest place in the castle." I said as we finally reached the Kings bedroom.

"It's beautiful." Brady said. His hand ran over the pool table. "Just like this…pool table. What's it made out of?"

With no doubt, he was flirting with me. I smiled and decided to joke around with him. "My dad made it." I explained. "..From the boys of bones who asked me out."

"Good to know." He nodded, fear evident in his eyes.

What happened next wasn't important because the two young men had met their cousin—who they mistaken of being a Hobbit. I wouldn't blame them. Their cousin _was_ short for his age.

"I advise you get comfortable because tomorrow you will have a coronation." I spoke.

"A coronation?" Boomer wrinkled his nose. "Is that where you stuff your face with food?"

"No. It's when we officially crown you as Kings." I clarified.

What followed after this actually made me cry (well, almost). They had found a portrait of their parents on the wall beside their pool table. The two believed that their parents would be looking down at them, smiling proudly. But, Lanny ruined the moment. Oh, that heartless jerk. I sighed and shot the boy a look of disbelief. He replied by shrugging.

As I left, Brady had trailed after me. "Wait!"

"Yes?" I turned on my heels to face him. We stood all alone in the middle of the hallway, though it felt like a thousand eyes were staring at us—watching our every move and documenting every word we say.

Silence had filled the air. In another situation with a completely different person, silence would only lead to a game of combat. One of us would have to throw a punch and the other one would block the blow. But I had to remember that I wasn't in training. And that I wasn't facing a drug dealer of some sort. I was on Kinkow. And I was on a mission.

"So, what's your occupation?" He said finally.

Was I to tell him that I work for the CIA? That I have spent the past two years hunting down criminals and kicking their butts? It would be a great conversation to strike up, if I wanted him to be under the wrong impression. So, I just did what I was told to. _I lied._

"If you'd like to know, I'm the head guard of the castle." Well, sort of. I was, after all, preparing to become a guard before working in the CIA. (And I'm not just saying that because it's my cover.)

"For how long?" He sounded fascinated.

"I have actually been training since I was six, but I didn't officially become a palace guard until I was fifteen." The boy nodded, motioning for me to continue. And that was when I an idea struck me.

"Since you insist on knowing more about me," I said flirtatiously, causing him to direct his attention to the floor. "Meet me down in the plaza in an hour."

"O-Okay." He stammered. His cheeks grew red like a fire hydrant, making me believe that he had never been in this situation before. Brady turned and re-entered his room, probably rushing off to tell his brother.

I smiled haughtily to myself. I had gained the suspects trust. Boy was this mission a piece of cake.


End file.
